He stares at me. "Did you want to be eaten alive?"
I lower my eyes to the ground. "I don't know."
"What's wrong with you? Thrace isn't so bad. It's a barbarous land, but there is a palace and all the luxuries you find here."
"You don't know me well if you think all I care about is luxury."
Cassander snorts. "I don't know you at all, Princess. And I can't get to know you better if you're inside the belly of a hippo."
Dusty and glowing with perspiration, I'm surprised he wishes to know me better. Moreover, given his rank, I'm acutely aware that he should not be so familiar with me. Nonetheless, he's become my own personal hero, so I confess, "I'm afraid."
"You can't know what will come, Princess. None of us can. The world turns in strange ways. We can't change how we're born, but we have some say over everything after."
I marry before Lysandra does. In this one thing, I finally come first.
Before the wedding, I sacrifice all my girlhood toys to Artemis. It's a goodbye, for the virgin goddess can't protect me anymore. I will belong to Hera now. After, I wash in a sweet-smelling bath of milk, honey and water drawn from a ritual spring and carried by a special vase. The servants anoint me with oils, style my hair, and swath me in veils.
My brother Ptolemy is garbed in a crown of thorn and nuts. He is to be my companion at the wedding and pass out bread at the wedding feast. "I'll miss you, Arsinoë," my brother says, his voice thick with emotion.
I wish he could come with me to Thrace, but he's part of my mother's plans. When she becomes the Pharaoh's chief wife, my brother will become the heir to the throne. He must stay here and be King of Egypt after my father.
It now seems like a childish thought that I should have ever remained here, so I embrace him in fond farewell.
The wedding feast is a raucous affair with men and women celebrating together, though they eat separately on either side of the hall. All the while, Lysandra sneers at me, as if hoping to provoke me to tears. She nearly does. Or perhaps I am upset only because when I look for Cassander, I don't see him.
At last, my father calls to me. I go swiftly because it may be the last time I ever hear the Pharaoh speak my name.
I'm presented to my groom, Lysimachus, the King of Thrace. "Before this assembly," my father intones. "I give this girl to you that you may beget legitimate children upon her."
Daring to peek at my groom from beneath my veils, I see a hard face with a furrowed brow and hollows in his cheeks. This stranger will be my husband. My lord. He's at least sixty years old; his hair thins over his brow. He is old. I make the mistake of thinking he is also frail.
I'm surprised when he grabs me hard by both wrists, his fingers digging in where Cassander's had been the day before. My new husband shakes me like a captive, for that's what I am, and a cheer goes up from the crowd.
Then I am carried off into the night to be unveiled.
Thrace is not Egypt. My husband is not Pharaoh. The land he rules holds no wonders. No pyramids rise up from the sand to amaze and inspire. Thracians are fierce fur-clad tribesmen who dwell in the mountains, climbing up to their fortress villages each night like sure-footed goats.
"They are barbarians who must be taught to live like civilized men," my husband says to me in the early days of our marriage.
It's one of the few things Lysimachus says to me at all. Like my father, he takes little notice of me. If there is anyone or anything my husband loves, it is his hunting dog. The hound is always close at his master's knee, peering up with open adoration, keen to amuse by fetching sticks or performing tricks.
But the dog hates all others. Come too close to the king and the dog snarls and growls. Try to pet the dog, and you may lose a hand to his snapping jaws. The king never scolds his dog for this. To the contrary, I think it makes him love the dog more.
I'm given a banquet to welcome me as the new queen of Thrace. The host is Prince Agathocles, a youth of no more than eighteen years. He looks like Cassander, but with a narrower mouth and a haughty bearing. I worry that he might resent me; a replacement for his dead mother. But he welcomes me to Thrace with a toast. Lifting a goblet he cries, "To Queen Arsinoë. May she give comfort to my father in these golden years of his life."
The guests all cheer to honor us, but I see that my husband the king isn't pleased. He doesn't like to think of himself as elderly and he narrows his eyes at his son as if he were a danger to him and not the bearer of his blood and his legacy.
Nonetheless, the prince offers me a place of honor and I'm obliged to take it. "My father is a hard man to please," Prince Agathocles says to me. "As I'm sure you've noticed."
I lower my eyes. I don't want to speak ill of his father. And with my eyes lowered, I spy a young girl under the table feeding the dogs from her fingers. When I gasp, Prince Agathocles reaches down and hauls her up into his arms. "There you are, Bunny! Meet our new step-mother."
I thought she was a slave because princesses do not crawl under tables to feed dogs. But I soon learn that like the king's favorite hound, this girl is allowed a very long leash. "She is my father's darling," Agathocles announces. "My father calls her his little bunny, so we all do."
Bunny is a girl of twelve with fair hair who curtseys to me. "I am the Princess Eurydice."
An unfortunate name. It's the name of my father's chief wife--my mother's rival. It's a name that makes me think of my stepsister Lysandra. But this little girl with her pink cheeks and upturned nose could never be so cruel. I smile at her. She cleaves to my side, so giggly that I realize she's had wine. Girls aren't supposed to have wine. Someone should send her to bed. But it's my celebration and I don't want to make trouble.
"Later, I'll show you the palace," Bunny says. "I'll teach you our dances and our songs. We'll stay up late."
"I should retire early," I say, remembering my mother's example. "In the morning, I'll weave with the women in the harem. Would that please your father?"
"Let the old women do the weaving," Bunny says, removing her sandals so she can join the dancing girls. "You're young, like we are. You should have fun."
As we watch his sister spin away, Prince Agathocles agrees. "You need not worry about pleasing my father too much. His last woman was a Persian witch. Most of his concubines are leftovers from the harem in Susa. You won't have many rivals here."
I glance over to where the king's women gather. I wonder if one of these women is Cassander's mother, but I'm afraid to ask and give insult. Most of the harem women are as old as my mother--some of them much older. They don't stare at me with resentment, but my mother would tell me to view them as deadly enemies.
For once, I'm glad she isn't here. I don't want to see enemies behind every pillar.
"And what about you?" I ask Prince Agathocles. "Do you have rivals here?"
"None here or anywhere," he boasts, then leans in as if to charm me. "And no wife, either."
I wonder why he mentions this to me. Does he want me to speak to his father on his behalf?
Then he stuns me by saying, "Perhaps when my father passes into the underworld, you can be my wife, Arsinoë."
My mouth falls open and I fight the urge to whip round and see who is listening. Surely this is a jest. A cruel trick mean to humiliate me. The kind of trick Lysandra used to play on me in Egypt. I choose my words carefully. I have my duty to my father to think of. To my family. To Egypt. "I'm quite happy to be your father's wife."
It is a bald-faced lie. I think Prince Agathocles knows it because he smirks. "Then my father chose the most virtuous bride in the world. You see. Other girls might resent being forced to touch wrinkled old flesh. They would prefer young arms, like these." He holds up his arms so that I can look at them. "Other girls would cringe at kissing a mouth filled with yellowed teeth--"
"You've had too much to drink," I break in, the heat of offense burning from my toes to the tips of my ears. "In the morning, you'll wish you didn't say these things. As a kindness, I'll pretend y
ou didn't."
He reels back as if I slapped him. He's a handsome prince; perhaps no girl has ever turned away his flirtations. I worry that I wouldn't have turned him away if he weren't so reckless...or if my heart didn't already belong to someone else.
"My queen," Cassander says with a flourishing bow, as if we stood in the marbled palace instead of the straw-laden stables. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I stroke Styx. It's the first moment since I arrived in Thrace that I have been able to visit my horse...or Cassander. And now I feel shy.
"I haven't seen you since the wedding, Your Majesty," Cassander says courteously.
I gasp. "I didn't think you were there!"
"Of course I was there."
"But I didn't see you..."
Holding a piece of fruit for Styx to munch on, Cassander looks absurdly pleased. "So you were looking for me? My place was in the shadows; my father likes for me to make myself scarce with the other servants at court."
"But you aren't a servant," I say, as it seems to be an injustice. Certainly the children of my father's concubines never made themselves scarce. "You're the king's son."
"But not a royal one," Cassander says with a rueful smile. "That is my brother."
"I've met him."
"Did you like him?" he asks.
No. I did not like Prince Agathocles. But I'm afraid to say so.
At my silence, Cassander tilts his head. "Did he mistreat you?"
"Why would he?"
"Because you can destroy all his dreams. If you bear my father a son, Prince Agathocles will no longer be the uncontested heir to the throne."
I stare so long that Cassander raises a brow. "Don't tell me you haven't dreamed of bearing sons for my father."
"I've never dreamed of such a thing," I say. Those were my mother's dreams, not mine.
"No?" Cassander asks. "What else does a queen dream of?"
I dream of Cassander.
On my wedding night, I dreamed of Cassander.
In the journey across the sea, I dreamed of Cassander.
I have dreamed of Cassander every night since he rescued me from the hippo. I can't tell him this. I'm married. I'm his father's wife. I'm his queen. Even if none of that were true, I wouldn't be brave enough to say it aloud. Nonetheless, the words lodge themselves painfully in my throat.
And I can say nothing at all.
"Did you have sisters in Egypt?" Bunny asks. She is always at my side now. She's a clever girl for her age, quick at games and funny, too. I think this must be why she is her father's favorite.
"Yes, I had sisters," I say, remembering Lysandra.
"Do you miss them?"
I don't know how to answer. I don't miss Lysandra. My life is easier now with no one to taunt me; none of the girls in Thrace would dare. And yet, there is an emptiness in my life where Lysandra used to be. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you seem so lonely," Bunny replies. "If I were Queen of Thrace, I'd have a wonderful time. I'd order everyone to do my bidding. I'd wear sparkling jewels. I'd visit all my lands--you do have lands, don't you?"
Part of the betrothal arrangement provided that I should own lands surrounding the city of Ephesus. I was eager to ride out to see them, and not only because it meant I would see Cassander in the stables before mounting my horse.
"Anyway," Bunny continues. "I thought maybe I can be your sister here in Thrace." Her upturned nose twitches in delight. "Yes, sisters. We'll watch out for one another and keep each other's secrets. That's what sisters do, isn't it?"
"I'd like that," I say with a hopeful sigh.
"I have a secret. Of course, it isn't really mine."
"Whose, then?"
"My brother's. Prince Agathocles. He fears he offended you at the banquet and that you'll never forgive him."
Did the Prince send his little sister to tell me this? Since the banquet, I've pretended that Prince Agathocles never said those reckless things. I'm always polite when we pass one another in the corridors. I never speak against him; I didn't tell the king. I didn't even confide in Cassander. "I'm sure anything Prince Agathocles said that night was said in jest."
"Everyone loves my brother, you know. He cannot bear to think anyone dislikes him. It pains him like a thorn in the paw of a lion. He won't be able to sleep until it is plucked out. Will you forgive him?"
Never in my life has anyone asked forgiveness for offending me. Back in Egypt, I imagined that one day Lysandra would beg my forgiveness. And that I'd give it to her. Since that may never happen now, I want to forgive Agathocles, in her place. "Of course."
"Oh, he'll be so pleased. I'll tell him you'll meet him in the garden beneath the mulberry tree!"
Bunny throws her arms around me, then runs off.
When we meet beneath the mulberry tree, Prince Agathocles is humble, his head lowered in deference. I don't know why Bunny chose the garden. There's little privacy here. A hundred servants and soldiers pass by, but at least they can't hear our words unless they strain to hear.
"I fear that I've made your first days here in Thrace uncomfortable," Prince Agathocles is saying. "It was never my intention. I was drunk and can't even remember what I said. But I am sorry."
"I forgive you," I say, and feel quite wonderful as the words come out.
He gives a grateful smile. "Would you tell me, Queen Arsinoë, what exactly it is that I said?"
"I'd rather we forgot it entirely."
"It's only that I worry--" he cuts off, as if embarrassed but no blush stains his cheeks. "I fear you'll break my heart."
Something twists in my belly.
"You see, I love you," he says.
I don't believe him. He's teasing me. And I hate that the first time I ever hear a man say this to me, it's in jest. In Egypt, many boys professed their love for Lysandra. She knew how to turn them away, to laugh at their flattery as if it were nothing. But I don't know what to do. I feel like a fish on a hook. I'm gasping like one too.
Seeing my panic, Prince Agathocles hastens to add, "But it's a chaste love."
He says this too late. I lift my skirts and turn to run. Prince Agathocles chases after me, calling, "I want only your friendship, Arsinoë! Nothing more."
He has me confused. Rattled. We draw stares from the gardeners who snip at sprigs of rosemary. The guards at the palace doors turn their eyes our way, too. I'm embarrassed to even look at him when he catches up to me. "Just let me go, Prince Agathocles."
"I've offended you again," he says with a dramatic sigh. "I've made things terrible for you here, and all when I know you were fearful to come to Thrace."
"Who told you I was fearful?" I ask, biting my lower lip.
"My bastard brother," Prince Agathocles says. "Cassander speaks very highly of you."
Just the mention of Cassander's name stops me in my tracks. "W-what does he say about me?"
Prince Agathocles raises one eyebrow. "Why do you care?"
I hear myself swallow. I blush. The heat of it sweeps over me. Watching my face, Prince Agathocles gives a little start. Then something turns behind his eyes. "Are you fond of Cassander?" When I don't answer, he says, "He knows how to behave himself better than I do, surely."
It hurts me to lie, but I must. "I'm no fonder of him than any boy. It's only that he saved me once, in Egypt. I owe him a debt of gratitude."
After a long pause, the prince says, "Arsinoë, I've made a mess of things. Let me make it up to you. If you find Cassander good company, I'll arrange to have him chaperone you on a tour of your lands."
I've never heard of a stable boy like Cassander serving as a chaperone to a queen, not even if he is of royal blood. But perhaps things are done differently in Thrace. Or perhaps I'm simply too eager to see Cassander again.
Agathocles is good to his word. He arranges for Cassander to accompany me on my rides. All I must do is wait until the king is busy with envoys and dismisses me. Then I'm free to slip away from the harem and visit the stables.
When I go, Styx
is always pleased to see me, her tail high. Adorned with my royal livery, a bridle ornamented with golden lions fit over her face, she preens. I think Cassander is pleased to see me too, though it's more difficult to tell. A horse can show disrespect to a king or queen; a groom must always behave as if he's honored by one's royal presence.
Cassander makes a good choice for a guide, though. He knows the roads, the streams and the mountain passes of Thrace. He points out the plants I don't know and tells me about the different Thracian tribes. And though we always ride out with an accompaniment of the king's soldiers, we sometimes forget they are there.
I'm now glad that my father insisted I copy the writing's of Plato because Cassander knows them too. We debate the nature of the soul. Plato thinks a soul is made up of appetite, reason and spirit. I agree, saying it explains why people are torn between what they want and what they should want. Cassander scoffs. He says that everyone assumes their soul is ruled by an enlightened spirit and that everyone else is ruled by animal desires.
We talk about Egypt, and I even confess my dream that one day I would become Pharaoh.
Cassander doesn't laugh and that makes me like him even more.
When we reach one of my estates, Styx breaks into a gallop over the field. I let her run. Cassander gives chase on his own brown stallion. The hooves of our horses crash against the ground even as my heartbeat pounds inside my own breast. I feel giddy as ride and delighted when we stop in an orchard. Cassander and I pluck apples from the trees, and we're both breathless and laughing.
"That's my favorite sound," Cassander says, biting a juicy chunk from the fruit.
I listen, but hear only the wind, the chirp of a bird. "What sound?"
"Your laughter," he replies.
I blush hotly. With Cassander I'm always blushing.
"He's very handsome isn't he?" Bunny asks one night when she finishes teaching me a Thracian dance.
"Hmm?"
"Cassander. He's a groom now, but one day soon he will join my father's cavalry. He'll make a fine warrior, don't you think? And if he fights well, the king may grant him lands and a wife."
A wife. The thought of some girl in Cassander's arms is so horrible that I close my eyes.
"It's better if he marries," Bunny chatters on, oblivious to my distress. "I think it will ease his pains."